Dreams
by idleness
Summary: Faleron pines, Merric offers little sympathy. Written for Max as part of Fief Goldenlake's 2015 holiday wishing tree exchange. Prompt: Ship someone in unrequited love with Kel. Your choice as to who that is. I'm in the mood for something poignant but by all means play it for laughs if you think of something hilarious.


Kel was dancing with that sergeant of the King's Own again. Neal's cousin. A handsome fellow, confident and outgoing. It was obvious that she enjoyed his flirting. There were rumours, of course, but Neal and Merric had dismissed them and he supposed they would know after all those years together in the north. Faleron sighed and frowned into his wine cup. It never would have bothered him before, but these feelings had snuck up on him sometime after the war.

He'd returned to Corus to recover after taking an injury in the siege at Frasrlund. He never went back to the front. Old Duke Turomot had been looking for junior magistrates about that time, and Prince Roald had pushed forward Faleron's name. He didn't mind; he didn't like fighting all that much so being a desk knight appealed to him, and out of all the knights of their generation, Faleron knew the most about law.

Faleron leaned against the balustrade and watched the dance floor again. He wasn't expecting to fall in love with Kel; he just did. Perhaps it was the way she came back a storied hero, as a woman who'd come into her own. Or maybe not. Kel had always had poise and conviction, even on her first day as a page. Nevertheless, after their first few meetings he'd noticed himself feeling tongue-tied, and caught himself rehearsing conversations in his head in an effort to sound clever, witty; looking forward to their next meeting while feeling anxious to the pit of his stomach. Trying to anticipate places she might be so they could 'accidentally' cross paths, then immediately resolving not to be so obvious, and avoiding those places altogether. If Kel noticed what he felt must be clearly strange behaviour, she didn't show it.

"Hah! Found you."

Merric slithered into a seat beside him. Faleron had chosen one of the darkened balconies overlooking the ballroom as his hiding place.

"Grandmama is looking for you," Merric said, when Faleron didn't say anything.

Faleron groaned. Their grandmother, the Countess of King's Reach, had decided that Faleron needed to marry, especially as he was no longer on active duty and unlikely to return to it. He wasn't opposed to the idea, but he wasn't in love with any of the women she pushed in front of him, and detested the appraising eyes of their mothers. Of course, sometimes, in fantasies he'd die before admitting to, he imagined marrying Kel and setting up a home in Corus where he could work while she went riding off to protect people in distress. They'd have children, and she'd come from home from her trips and postings and make them eat their vegetables. But dreams were free, he supposed.

"Why do you think I'm hiding?" he said, smiling wryly.

"Because she wants to introduce you to Lady Emiliana?"

"I thought it was Lady Felice tonight."

"Her too."

"Any others?"

"You bet. You owe me, by the way. I saved our family honour by dancing with Lady Emiliana _and_ Lady Felice because you weren't there."

Faleron snorted. He knew his cousin, like most other young men at court, was falling over himself to dance with the lovely Lady Emiliana, and Lady Felice was very engaging, if not as beautiful as Lady Emiliana.

He looked back down at the dancers. Kel was dancing with Esmond now. Esmond, as usual, was dressed impeccably and performed all of his steps perfectly but at least he didn't flirt. Faleron and Merric sat in silence until halfway through the next set. Kel wasn't dancing this one. He watched as a nobleman he didn't recognise approached her at the refreshments table.

"She'll never know if you don't declare yourself," Merric muttered.

Faleron swallowed his wine quickly.

"Who won't?"

"Kel, you dolt," said Merric, turning bright red.

Faleron stared at his cousin, grappling for words over his shock. He felt his own ears going hot.

"Neal says she's a prize idiot when it comes to romance. He said you are too," stammered Merric, who obviously felt that whatever he saw in Faleron's face was confirmation enough.

"It's not that obvious, is it?" Faleron asked in a horrified whisper. What if Kel had noticed, but was trying not to hurt his feelings by pretending ignorance? How mortifying.

"Yes—well, I don't know. I didn't notice until Neal mentioned it," said Merric, eyeing a tapestry with studious attention.

Faleron put his face in his hands. Neal and his uncanny observation and regrettable tongue.

"Gods. Do you think Kel knows?"

Merric considered this for a moment.

"Hunh. I don't know. Neal doesn't think so. He told me she didn't even notice Cleon mooning over her all that time when we were squires," Merric said finally. "And _that_ was really obvious."

Faleron allowed himself a nervous laugh. Merric was right about Cleon.

"I think I'll just let it pass," he sighed, examining the sediment in his wine cup. "Maybe I should please Grandmama and dance with the other ladies."

Merric frowned.

"You mean you're not even going to try?"

"Well—why should I? She won't be interested, and that would be awkward. I'd rather not risk our friendship."

Or, I'd just be so embarrassed I don't know if I could face her again, Faleron thought. Better to wait and hope that it'll pass. Maybe he'd be bolder if he had some idea that his feelings were returned, but there was only her usual friendly cheer.

"But isn't it still better to know?" Merric protested, shaking his head. "But whatever, do what you like. Anyway, I'm going back downstairs. You coming?"

Faleron sighed.

"In a minute," he said. "And Merric? Can you please not discuss this conversation with Neal?"

Merric turned before he left their alcove and gave an ironic salute.

"My lips are sealed. Come and talk me up to Lady Emiliana, please."


End file.
